


Perfect

by Thymesis



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Awkward Sexual Situations, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Silly, pre-AOTC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-04 03:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10981989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thymesis/pseuds/Thymesis
Summary: Anakin decides to bring Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Order’s most perfect Jedi Knight, down a notch or three…by slipping a potent aphrodisiac into Obi-Wan’s dessert course.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic is _profoundly_ un-serious. You have been warned! ;-)

The little bottle even came with instructions.

_Dosage: 1-3 drops, as needed, 1 hour prior to sexual activity. Warning: DO NOT exceed 10 drops in any standard 24-hour-period._

_Satisfaction 100% guaranteed._

Anakin smirked. He figured three drops ought to do it.

***

It wasn’t easy being the Chosen One. His fellow Padawan learners didn’t like him. The Jedi High Council didn’t trust him. Grand Master Yoda’s pointy green ears seemed to droop with disapproval whenever he was around.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst part of it all was that Anakin Skywalker’s Master was the Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Yes, _the_ Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The one. The only.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, who’d been just another guy with a goofy haircut until he’d become the first Jedi in a thousand years to defeat a Sith Lord in single combat and, subsequently, the Temple’s biggest celebrity. Anakin hadn’t witnessed the duel himself—he’d been busy at the time blowing up one Lucrehulk-class Droid Control Ship and saving a load of amphibious Gungan butt—but he was certain Obi-Wan hadn’t even broken a sweat.

Obi-Wan was too perfect for perspiration. In fact, he was too perfect for a lot of things, and one of those things included his apprentice Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin tried not to think about the futile years he’d spent trying to live up to Obi-Wan’s example. It’d never worked. He’d always fallen short somehow, time and time again, and Obi-Wan was too perfect to show his disappointment. Instead, he’d put on his patented Patient Master face and say simply, “Do better.”

“Do better.” Always, “do better.”  

It made Anakin crazy.

Last time Obi-Wan had said it was a month ago, when he’d caught Anakin trolling Coruscant’s lower levels for casual sex. For the life of him, Anakin couldn’t figure out how Obi-Wan had known. It shouldn’t have been any of his business, since Anakin was above the age of consent. But although Anakin had tried to argue, quite reasonably, he felt, that sex was a natural physical drive, the same as eating, breathing, or sleeping, Obi-Wan had been unmoved.

“You do not require sexual relations in order to survive, and these illicit activities reflect poorly upon the dignity of the Jedi Order. Do better,” Obi-Wan had said.

“In other words, you would condemn me to a lifetime of solitary assignations with my own right hand. Thanks. Thanks a lot,” Anakin had replied bitterly. “Do you even _remember_ how to masturbate, Master?”

It was fortunate, all things considered, that perfect Jedi didn’t believe in punishment.

After that, Anakin decided that he’d had _enough_. If he wasn’t going to be able to live up to Obi-Wan’s unreasonable expectations, he’d just have to bring Obi-Wan down a notch or two. Or three. However many notches it took for him to sink to Anakin’s level, actually.

That’s when he went in search of the most potent aphrodisiac that credits could buy.

***

The hardest part was figuring out when to use it. Anakin didn’t want to waste precious drops on the possibility that Obi-Wan might find someplace to run and hide. No, he wanted to be there in person when Obi-Wan was seized and torn apart by sheer, animal lust. He wanted to watch. And he wanted to gloat.

The perfect opportunity presented itself during their first evening on Di’van. It was yet another boring diplomatic mission: fifteen-point agendas, interminable meetings, staid social gatherings, and one ceremonial welcome dinner for honored Jedi guests. Obi-Wan had been given a seat directly to the right of the Di’vanian Prime Minister.

She was petite and pretty, and she was totally infatuated with Obi-Wan. Unfortunately for her, he seemed not to notice how she licked her lips and fluttered her eyelashes whenever he glanced her way.

Anakin thought he might be able to make her fondest dreams come true.

Anakin himself was seated to Obi-Wan’s right. He had to wait awhile for the perfect moment, but finally he managed to slip three drops into Obi-Wan’s dessert course while Obi-Wan was turned to listen politely to the Prime Minister’s ill-conceived joke about albino gundarks.

Anakin feigned total absorption in the elegant, sugary confection in front of him. But in reality, he was observing his Master carefully out of the corner of his eye. He wasn’t certain how quickly the aphrodisiac might start to take effect. Hmm…was it his imagination, or were Obi-Wan’s cheeks tinged uncharacteristically pink?

Yes, he was definitely flushed. And now he was rubbing the palm of his hand against the back of his neck and loosening the collars of his tunics and leaning in closer to the pretty Prime Minister, whose eyes had widened in anticipation—

“—forgive me, but I’m feeling a bit poorly,” Obi-Wan was saying. “I believe I shall turn in a bit early; I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh no, of course not!” the Prime Minister exclaimed, her brow furrowed with concern. “Is there anything I can do—?”

“No no, that’s quite all right. It’s nothing a good night’s rest won’t fix,” Obi-Wan said soothingly as he rose from his seat at the table.

“I’ll come with you,” Anakin said quickly.

“That’s not necessary. Feel free to stay and enjoy the rest of the dinner.”

“Nah, it’s fine. I could use some extra hours in bed anyway,” he said, sticking to Obi-Wan’s side like a podracer’s emergency epoxy as they began the short walk back to their shared guest quarters. No way his Master was going to get away from him that easily!

***

He should’ve stayed and finished his dessert. Upon returning to their quarters, Obi-Wan had gone straight to bed.

Anakin watched him all night. He tossed and turned and muttered in his sleep a bit more than usual, and at one point Anakin thought he saw an erection outlined beneath the thin shimmersilk sheets…but that was it.

How disappointing.

But perhaps Anakin ought to have expected no less from Obi-Wan Kenobi, the Order’s most perfect Jedi.

A bigger dose was definitely called for.

***

Two days later, they were enjoying a quiet afternoon tea with the Opposition Parliamentarian.

Di’van’s Opposition Parliamentarian was distinguished and handsome, and he was definitely attracted to Obi-Wan. He’d been regarding Obi-Wan with frank and honest appraisal all day, taking every opportunity available to touch Obi-Wan: a pat on the back, a hand on the shoulder or the elbow, a delicate brush of fingertip against wrist.

He probably wanted to pound Obi-Wan into the mattress. Anakin thought he had something that would make Obi-Wan stop pretending not to notice the seductive overtures and spread his legs wide for the besotted being.

Tea time on Di’van was long and leisurely and involved multiple cups of tea. Anakin took charge of the pot and did all the pouring. It was simplicity itself to sneak ten fat drops of the aphrodisiac into Obi-Wan’s cup the first time he asked for a refill.

Then there was nothing to do but wait and see what would happen.

“What would happen,” as it turned out, happened quickly. One moment, the Opposition Parliamentarian was discussing the wholesale price of hyperdrive emitters; the next, Obi-Wan’s gaze had wandered down below the table…in the direction of the Opposition Parliamentarian’s groin.

Anakin’s own gaze couldn’t help but follow. The groin in question looked ample beneath wyrskin breeches. Downright bulging, even.

Force, finally! Obi-Wan’s expression was dazed. His mouth was slack, lips slightly parted. The perfect Jedi Knight was seconds from surrendering to the basest of sexual urges—

“My apologies, but will you excuse me for a moment? I am feeling a sudden need to, err, _relieve_ myself,” Obi-Wan said. He lurched unsteadily to his feet, bowed, and bolted at top speed in the direction of the nearest refresher.

The Opposition Parliamentarian blinked in surprise. So did Anakin.

“Umm, sorry,” Anakin muttered, attempting valiantly to make his disappointment sound apologetic, “but I should probably go see what’s wrong. I’ll be right back.”

***

The door to the refresher was locked tight.

“Master, are you okay?” Anakin called through the door.

He thought he could detect whimpering.

“Master, can you hear me?”

A low, drawn out moan.

“ _Master?!_ ”

A muffled shriek, like Obi-Wan was yelling through a balled-up sleeve of his robe that had been jammed hastily between his teeth.

“Master, if you don’t answer in the next three seconds, I’m gonna break down the door.” Anakin paused. The corners of his mouth were curling in an anticipatory—and predatory—smile. “Riiiiight— In three…”

A second muffled shriek. And a third.

“Two…”

Something that sounded suspiciously like a hitched sob.

“ _One_ …”

“Ah no, Anakin, that will not be necessary,” Obi-Wan said. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m completely fine. Just give me another minute.”

DamndamndamndamnDAMN.

The next sixty seconds were filled with ordinary ’fresher noises: clothes rustling, toilet flushing, and the gush of running water from a faucet.

When Obi-Wan emerged at last through the door of the refresher, he looked as cool as an Alderaanian cucumber. His robes were perfectly draped; not a single strand of his copper-colored beard was out of place.

Idly, Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan were even human.

***

It was their final day on Di’van.

Ah, hell with it. Anakin dumped the remainder of the contents of that little bottle into Obi-Wan’s bowl of morning porridge.

This time, though, the aphrodisiac had no perceptible effect whatsoever.

FUCK.

***

Anakin rolled the sleeping pallet out onto the floor of his narrow Padawan’s cell and flopped down on top of it, scooting underneath the blanket with a relieved groan. They’d returned to the Temple from Di’van only a few hours ago, and after too many nights of enforced celibacy sharing sleeping quarters with Obi-Wan, Anakin was very much looking forward to becoming pleasantly reacquainted with his right hand.

Said right hand wandered down the center line of his abdomen and took a fast dive between his legs. He was already hard—

The door chimed.

Anakin heaved a frustrated sigh and waved it open. “What— _oof_!”

Obi-Wan was on top of him, and he was naked. They were both completely naked, actually, and that was the only coherent thought Anakin had for quite a number of hours afterwards.

Anakin lost count of how many occasions they orgasmed. They came on each other’s bellies, in each other’s mouths, and up each other’s asses. In between orgasms, they kissed and caressed every millimeter of each other’s bodies, moaning and laughing and shouting with each new delightful discovery, and Anakin licked many salty droplets of Obi-Wan’s sweat off his skin—the perfect Jedi was really perspiring! At one point towards the end, Obi-Wan even ejaculated deep into Anakin’s ass while Anakin ejaculated deep down Obi-Wan’s throat.

He’d never been simultaneously sucked _and_ fucked by a single partner before, and he saw stars go nova behind his eyelids.

Who’d have suspected his Master would be so flexible?

***

Later, of course, Obi-Wan wanted to indulge in self-recrimination: “I’m so terribly sorry, Anakin. I don’t know what came over me, but there’s no excuse for the way I took advantage of you. I promise I’ll do better—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Anakin interrupted. “You were perfect.”

Obi-Wan blushed. It was adorable.

“ _Perfect_ ,” Anakin repeated, grinning. And kissed him.

 

END


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